


Long Time Coming

by soididthisthing



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Body Image, First Kiss, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Not Canon Compliant, Robot Feels, Robot/Human Relationships, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Touch-Starved, brief robot surgery, but also not too far off from canon, look I just wanna kees the toaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26907064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soididthisthing/pseuds/soididthisthing
Summary: Nick and Nate have finally confronted Eddie Winter, but what does this mean moving forward?
Relationships: Male Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine, Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine
Comments: 11
Kudos: 89





	Long Time Coming

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't expect to fall for the toaster man, but here we are. Yeah, I'm sure there's a million of these; this one's mine. The romance mod is really good, but wasn't enough for me, plus I had a few quibbles with the takeaways from Nick's final speeches in his affinity quest. And sometimes, ya just want some tropey fluff fic.
> 
> Canon-adjacent: Winter himself is the one who pulled the trigger on Jenny Lands in this fic, and I filled in some gaps in Nick's post-war timeline. His affinity speeches are a bit different here.
> 
> Nod to [ellameno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellameno) for a line about Nick's weird feet, it's a bit that I imagined so vividly, I had to include in some form here. Please read their [The Great Fire](https://archiveofourown.org/series/571771) series, it's lovely.

_"Christ, look at you. You're not even alive."_

_"Then I guess I'm in good company."_

* * *

For the first hour of their walk back to Diamond City, Nick and Nate nervously scanned their surroundings, wondering if any raiders may have been attracted by the confrontation with Winter. But they relaxed as time went on and none appeared, likely discouraged by the signs of an evening snowstorm.

Nate wrinkled his nose against the falling snow. "We might want to consider overnighting somewhere. I don't have the gear for a blizzard, if it comes to it. God, I wish we knew what this storm is going to do."

He looked forlornly at his PipBoy, currently tuned to Travis’ nervous chatter. He turned the dial off. "Rest in Peace, Barry the Weather Guy, wherever you are. I'm sorry I called you the most boring guy on radio 200 years ago."

Nick said nothing, his expression guarded as he stared ahead while walking, shoulders slumped. He'd barely said a word since they left Winter's bunker.

"Nick?"

Still no response.

Nate ambled closer to the detective and reached out to gently clasp his shoulder. "Hey, buddy." he said softly, giving a small squeeze.

Nick reflexively flinched, still unused to being touched, much less with such casual affection.

"Sure, sure." He slowed to a halt and took note of his surroundings. The setting sun peeking through the skeletal skyscrapers. How Nate's breath fogged a moment in front of his face before being swept away by the swirling wind.

Nick's eyes flicked to his feet. "Aw, hell, you must feel like a popsicle. Yeah, there's a decent flophouse a few alleys down. Ghoul-run, no problems with clientele like me. Us."

Nate ignored the correction and patted Nick on the back. "Sounds good. I think we both could use a little time to decompress before we get home and Ellie bombards us with questions."

 _Home_. For all his pep talks about finding a home in the wasteland, Nick never actually called the Agency that. He suddenly wondered why. But it made sense, right? It was where he lived. Hell, Ellie was like a daughter to him. And that would make Nate- he shook his head.

"You ok?"

"Yeah." Nick said unconvincingly. Nate raised a knowing eyebrow. "Fine. I'm not ok. But I don't wanna talk about it right now, not out here."

The other man nodded. "Fair enough, lead the way." He dramatically wagged a finger and pulled a conspiratorial face, "but don't keep things bottled up too long, you know how Piper gets if she thinks she smells a scoop."

Nick barked a laugh as the two began walking again. "God. You know I didn't tell a soul in Diamond City about the old Nick for decades."

He flexed his ruined hand, frowning at what looked like a new spot of rust. "Then, I meet Piper and she gets me to spill the beans within three days. Sometimes I wonder if I should'a offered her a crack at being my partner after Marty ditched me."

Nate looked skeptical. "I'm not sure. With how you two butt heads sometimes, I think you both dodged a bullet."

"True, true."

Nick brightened. "I'm sure glad I conned _you_ into the job, heh. But I'm sorry your first big case ended up being more a favor for your boss, not much pay in it."

Nate shrugged. "I knew what I was getting into. _Aaannnd_ I might have helped myself to a thing or two in Eddie's little time capsule."

"Sticky fingers, tsk."

"Not like he needs any of it now."

"Point taken."

Nate patted his coat pocket. "You, uh… you want his sidearm?"

"No,” his companion said softly. “No, I don't want to see that thing ever again."

Nate nodded. "Sturgis asked me to keep an eye out for any useful small mechanisms while I’ve been away. What do you say I break it down, let it be part of an act of creation for once."

"That's far more poetic than Eddie deserves." Nick spat out harshly. He instantly regretted his tone and amended, "But I'd-I'd like that."

Nate smiled and affectionately pulled the synth into a quick side hug. "You got it, Partner."

Nick stumbled slightly, but didn't resist.

* * *

The flophouse was actually a pre-war hotel. A post-war one, too, though the ballroom had been converted to a communal sleeping area, lined with cots and sleeping bags, convenient for caravaneers and other travelers who were only interested in a few hours' sleep for even fewer caps.

Nate played with a scraggly orange tabby lounging on an overstuffed lobby chair as Nick and the proprietor, a ghoul woman named Flo, reminisced briefly about an old case. As was with most ghouls, it was difficult to guess at what age she turned. Based on her tone and mannerisms, Nate surmised it must have been in her 70s or 80s.

He idly wondered if the cat could be a descendant of the old, amorous ginger that once prowled around Sanctuary, when he noticed Nick and the ghoul making a beeline to him from the front desk. A small argument was in progress. Nate gave the cat a parting tap on the nose as he stood up to face the pair.

The old ghoul was barely 5’ tall, but that didn’t stop her from giving the towering synth an earful. "I told you, dearie, I refuse to take your money."

"C'mon, Flo, I don't need a hand out. And I know we're square on favors. Let me pay you for the goddamned room."

"Language!" She hissed. "You're the only soul in the Commonwealth who refuses gifts. How about I just ask your young man, then."

"My _what_?"

Nate worked to keep the creeping grin off his face. "Is there something you need, ma'am?"

Flo lightly smacked Nick with the ledger she was holding. "So much more polite than you."

She pointedly turned to Nate, her furrowed brow made all the deeper by her wrinkled skin. "Mr. Valentine refuses to indulge the last wishes of a dying old woman. I take great pleasure in offering my hospitality to friends of the community, and no empty room goes unused if I can help it.” She gave Nick a sideways glance. “I’d like you two to be my guests for the evening, so I can feel needed... one last time."

She dabbed at her non-existent nose. Nate glanced over at Nick, who was looking back at him with tightened lips.

Nate held Nick's gaze as he said to Flo, "That's awfully kind of you, ma'am. We'd love to sample your hospitality."

Nick sighed, earning him another thwap in the chest. "See? _He_ knows how to treat his elders. Maybe his manners will eventually rub off on you."

Flo handed Nate a room key with a flourish. "Stairs on your right, 3rd floor, end of the hall. Breakfast is at 8am sharp, I expect then to hear all about how you two met."

"Of course, ma'am."

"Good boy."

Nick groaned.

As they began their trek up the stairs, Nate whispered out the corner of his mouth, "Is she really dying?"

Nick snorted. "No, that's just how she bats her proverbial eyelashes at new marks. Flo's a pre-war ghoul - she's been 'dying' for over 200 years now."

* * *

Nate gave a low whistle as he shrugged off his pack. "Wow, a king sized bed with actual sheets. _And_ a duvet!" He had the sudden urge to jump on the mattress and start swinging the pillows as if he were 5 years old again.

The room was furnished with what appeared to be the original wooden nightstands and dresser, lovingly restored. Compared to some of the dark, cramped places where he had spent fitful nights, it felt like a state room.

"Yeah," Nick said brusquely. "Now you get why I'm mad? Comping us her best room on a night like this when folks’ll give good money for someplace so nice and warm. It feels like stealing, she ain’t exactly rolling in caps.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, “The old Nick never had to deal with stuff like this."

"A good thing you're the new Nick who deserves nice things."

Nick just shook his head.

Nate gleefully sat on one side of the bed and began pulling off his boots. He patted the mattress. "Come on, we’re here now. Take a load off. We both could use an airing out and drying off."

Nick sheepishly stared at the bed from the doorway. There was no other place to sit in the room. "You, uh, you know she thinks we're a couple."

Nate shrugged, remembering their initial comedic introduction downstairs. Flo had clasped her hands and cackled with glee when she recognized the figure who entered her establishment, an unfamiliar, attractive man in tow, standing too close, too _familiar_ , in her mind, to be _just_ a co-worker.

" _'Partners'_ has a lot of different connotations, and it isn't like she's here right now to leer. Come on and settle down, I have a book you can read while I snooze." He tossed a weathered volume of _Leaves of Grass_ on the bed.

The synth sighed, but did as asked, taking a moment to pull off his coat and neatly fold it over the baseboard, before sitting awkwardly on the bed opposite of Nate. He hesitated a moment before removing his tie and setting it with his hat on the nightstand.

Nate began to hum as he rolled off his heavy wool socks, wriggling his toes. "Shoes," he said, snapping his fingers.

Nick was fumbling with a pack of cigarettes, his back turned. "Huh?"

"Give me your shoes. And socks, if you have 'em. We're not getting Flo's nicest bed dirty, plus we can use the radiator to dry them out."

"I don't take my shoes off."

"Why?"

"I got weird feet."

Nate rolled his eyes. "Feet are inherently weird. Shoes, c'mon."

Nick pocketed the Grey Tortoises and worked at his laces. He pulled off his muddy oxfords and mis-matched socks. "Promise you won't laugh."

"I assume you have feet like any other Gen 2. I already know what those look like."

"Yeah, but."

"No buts. You're not the only person who's ever been self-conscious about their body. Remember, ex-soldier, yeah?" He tapped the massive gouge in his right ear and then the scar that crept into his greying hairline. "I'm kind of falling apart, too."

"Gee, thanks."

"C'mon. You've done more for me than any other friend in my entire life -- given me a job, a place to stay… all in addition to helping me find my son. So who cares if your feet are weird."

"I just don't want you to see me looking even more like one of _Them_." Nick replied in a small voice.

There it was. Nate suspected Nick suffered from lower esteem than he let on, but it still broke his heart to finally hear the admission.

"Hey, hey, hey." Nate scooted across the mattress. He hesitated for the briefest of moments, then gently placed his hands on the synth's shoulders. Nick was normally an intimidating 6 feet tall, but sitting there tensely without his coat and hat, he looked small and vulnerable.

"You're probably the best man I've ever met, here or in my past life."

"Now you're just buttering me up. Won’t get a raise that easily, you know."

"Nick, do you honestly not know that, like, half of Diamond City has had a crush on you at some point?"

"Oh, and now it's jokes. You might wanna dial it down to be believable next time."

"I'm serious, go ask Ellie." Nate gently rubbed circles into Nick’s shoulders with his thumbs. "You're smart, funny, handsome…"

Nick snorted. "Handsome?"

"Don't interrupt. Yes, and - _shit_."

"Ah, the other shoe has dropped."

"Oh, for f- Nick, I think you've been _shot_."

"What?"

"Yeah, there’s a freshly singed hole right here near your shoulder. Ah, ha!" He gingerly spread the fabric of Nick’s shirt taut, "There's the bullet, it isn’t in very deep. How did you not notice?"

"Oh, um." Nick struggled to pull his thoughts together, having been distracted by the prolonged physical contact. No one had touched him like that in a literal lifetime. It was… nice. He cleared his throat, a nervous habit that, of course, did absolutely nothing.

"Well, I've got these dead zones here and there on account of sensor damage. I must have lucked out and got tagged in one of 'em."

"Well, it can't be good to keep it there. I've got tweezers and tape in my kit, I'll pry it out and bandage you up."

Bandage. Not fix or repair. Bandage, like it was a flesh and blood wound instead of just torn silicone and dented metal.

"Ain't you a regular Florence Nightingale," Nick murmured.

Nate was already sifting through his pack. "There's worse field hospitals than a nice hotel room. And we've got privacy, here, too."

Nick sighed. He knew better than to dissuade Nate when he was in 'fix it' mode. "Ok, but don't get carried away and go full blown mechanic on me. A quick patch job, then we're done, no changing the air filters or anything like that."

"If I notice anything else, I'll be sure to give you an itemized estimate, first," Nate replied glibly.

"Smart ass."

"You started it."

* * *

Nick wasn't used to undressing, least of all in front of someone else. Sure, Ellie nagged him every month for his laundry, but aside from that brief moment of rotating clothing, he was always in his dress shirt and trousers. Most of the time indoors, he didn't even bother to take off his hat and coat. " _Clothes make the man_ " and they absolutely helped him not feel so much like a machine.

 _You're being a damned fool,_ he chided himself, as he shyly shrugged out of his suspenders and began unbuttoning his shirt. _Nate's probably seen guys more beat up than you. But dammit, why'd you have to wait so long since you last gave yourself a once-over. Ugh. Your back probably looks like the goddamned moon by now._

Nate had gone back to looking for something in his pack. He raised his voice a notch, "Oh, you don't need to take your shirt off completely, if you don't want to. I just need it loose enough to access your wound."

Nick gave a silent prayer of thanks as he re-buttoned the lower half of the shirt. "Sure, doc." He looked around the room. "Ah, where do you want me?"

"You can keep sitting where you are, the light is pretty good in here." He climbed back onto the bed, a bottle of vodka in hand. "To clean you up," he said in response to Nick's questioning look.

"It ain't like anything is gonna get infected."

"No, but the tape will stick better on a clean surface and that'll mean less maintenance for you down the road. Now look straight ahead and sit still."

Nick wasn't sure which made him more uncomfortable - when Nate treated him as if he were a human being, or when he was so casually nonchalant with the reality of Nick's synthetic body. _He's just concerned about you_ , he chided himself.

"Just don't waste the good stuff on account of me." He tried not to squirm as Nate gently pulled his shirt down around his shoulder.

"You sure this isn't - _I'm_ not - hurting you?" Nate asked as he grasped the bullet with his tweezers.

"Trust me, you'd know," Nick said wryly. "I don't know why those eggheads chose to make us feel pain, but it's a blessing sometimes to have so many sensors offline."

"You can't replace them?"

"I can. And have. But running into another G2, much less one that, uh, works out as a donor, has been a rarity."

"Yeah, but it seems like they’re everywhere now.” Nate grunted, then leaned forward to show off his prize, before dropping the bullet into an ashtray on the nightstand with a satisfying “clink”. 

“Next time we get the jump on a G2, let's see how much we can scavenge."

“That's kinda ghoulish, don’tcha think?"

"I promise, if I ever get inside the Institute, I'll find a way to smuggle out every new G2 part I can get my hands on. I'll grab everything that isn't nailed down, if I have to."

"Good to know where my partner stands on the ethics of grand theft."

Nate gave him a sharp prod in the side.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," Nick laughed. "While you're over there, also keep an eye out for my instruction manual, will ya? I'm curious just how far outta warranty I really am."

* * *

"All done." Nate gave Nick's back an absent-minded rub before two swift pats.

Nick gratefully hitched up his shirt and buttoned it up. "I'd say good as new, but I'm not in the mood for a lecture on taking care of myself."

"Can't take what you dish out, huh."

"Mmmmm. And I suppose this is gonna segue into talking about what happened today."

Nate reached out with a reassuring hand on Nick’s forearm. "Only if you want to. Just know it's… ok to not be ok."

Nick stared for a moment at Nate’s hand, then hoisted his legs onto the bed and flopped back onto the pillow. "Honestly, I don't even know _what_ I feel right now."

Nate nodded in sympathy. Winter's reaction to the ambush was probably the cruelest of all possible outcomes. The dispassionate Kellogg had still tried mind games with Nate during their confrontation, but Winter completely rejected Nick as nothing but a mindless, soulless machine. _You're not even alive._ It had to have cut deep.

"Nick was a hell of a cop, a guy with good instincts, and a good heart," the synth reflected. "I always counted myself lucky they didn't load me up with some ex-con or whatever type might volunteer to let folks tinker with their gray matter.

It's thanks to Nick that I pass for human. Why I get to live cushy in Diamond City and every other synth is shot on sight. I know I got it good, but... my entire life I owe to Nick. Everything that makes me who I am - my judgment, my speech, hell, even my name - they're his."

He pushed his palms to his eyes and gave out a ragged breath.

"All I've wanted is a life where I have something I can call my own. You know how many times I've tried to abandon the old Nick, start fresh?"

Nate shook his head.

"Six. Went by a different name each time. I've been a janitor, handyman, bodyguard, courier, miner, and farmhand. None of it helped, because without him... without him I'm nothing. A shell. I WAS Nick Valentine. I had his memories. His fears. All that poor bastard's hope.

I remember getting the call to head to some lab in Cambridge to get that neurotrans-whatever. And the next thing I know, I'm in a trash heap, my family, my home, my entire _life_ , gone. Then I discover, all those things, they weren't even _mine_. Everything I ever was belonged to Nick.

So, I thought, _ok, let's embrace it_ , _let's go 'home' to Chicago and pick things back up. If the pre-war ghouls can do it, so can I._ "

"You went all the way to Chicago?" Nate’s eyes widened, impressed.

"Yep, I hopped from caravan to caravan. Folks were happy in those days to have a guard who didn't need to eat and could pull _all_ the night watch shifts without getting tired."

"I'll bet. So what was Chicago like."

"Both too much and not enough. A constant flood of memories and a gnawing sensation I had more important things to do elsewhere."

"Closing Eddie's case."

"That's a polite way of saying, _'Getting revenge for my - Nick's - fiance._ ' But yeah, bingo. So I slunk back to Boston, resumed the detective schtick, and you know the rest." He waved a dismissive hand.

"Except for how you're feeling right now."

Nick sighed. "Now Eddie's as dead as Jenny and Nick. And I... I'm at a loss. I'd hoped with Winter gone, the last hint of that old world snuffed out, I could finally be free. My debt paid to a 200 year old ghost.”

Nick held up a finger before Nate could interject, “I know what yer gonna say -- ‘‘ _you_ **_are_ ** _free_ ’. Listen. Being out here with you, what I finally realized after all this time was that taking down Winter…”

He paused, then resumed in a sombre voice. “I told myself it was always about _justice_ , that it was more than just about Nick or Jenny or even you and me; it was about doing what was _right_.”

His eyes flicked to Nate’s face, then back up to the ceiling. Nick felt ashamed. “But what was a ghoul sitting all by his lonesome, locked away in the dark for 200 years even gonna do? What did I really accomplish, gunning him down? Not a goddamned thing. We could have found him feral and it wouldn't've made a lick of difference."

“Nick…”

“Let me finish. Coz now I'm thinking about that kid in the vault we cured last month. Taking back The Castle with the Minutemen. Helping Cait with her addiction, MacCready with his boy. And now we're on a path to save every last synth in the Commonwealth, it feels like.

And those acts of goodness, they're _ours_ . Ours and ours alone. And even if that's the only thing in this world I can ever claim as mine, not _Nick's_ , not the Institute's, but _mine_ , then I can die happy."

Nate considered this. "You don't _seem_ happy."

"No, I'm not. I’m _still_ not, even after all of this."

"Doing that kind of good is all anyone could ask to be remembered by when the time comes. The world is a better place with _you_ in it. But, Nick," Nate grasped his ruined hand and gave it a squeeze. "Remember, you've also got me."

The synth gave a sad little smile, but didn't withdraw from the touch. "And you know what the kicker is? I _like_ being Nick. And he'd be horrified, no, _violated_ , to see a Thing like me pretending to be him."

"You can't know that."

"I _do_ know that because _I'm him_!" he shouted in despair.

Nate thought a moment, choosing his words carefully. "People change, based on the paths they walk. Every day you make choices and become more… _you_ . I'm certainly not the man I was a year ago; how could _you_ still be exactly like someone from two centuries ago?"

He gave Nick a comforting pat on the knee. "And I don't think you're being very fair to yourself _or_ the old Nick, keeping him frozen in time in your mind."

Nick blinked.

Nate continued, "If the old Nick was still around, any reservations he'd have about you would change -- you can't tell me he wouldn't be proud of the work you've done, not just today but all your life. And not because it honors his "legacy" - because _I_ know and _you_ know Nick Valentine's pride does _not work like that_ \- but because as you said, it's about doing good, making a difference."

"You really think that?"

"I do. You've been Nick the synth much longer than Nick the human. If he met you today, I'd bet he'd have a lot to learn from you."

"I dunno, he was pretty set in his ways." Nick muttered.

"Stubborn and absolutely maddening to deal with, yeah."

"Ha, ouch, I get your point."

"Refuses to see the light he has inside."

Nick’s lip quirked. "Now you're sounding like that old lady in Sanctuary who gives me the creeps."

"And how many people love him."

The synth held up his hands in defeat, smiling. "Ok, ok, I _get_ it, knock it off, _Ellie_."

Nate gave him a playful shove and the two settled into a comfortable silence, laying side by side on the bed and gazing at the ceiling at nothing in particular.

"Which half are you in?" Nick asked, suddenly.

"Huh?"

"You said half of Diamond City has a crush on me."

"Which half do you think?" Nate said softly, tapping his toe against Nick's foot.

"I'm such an idiot."

Nate laughed. "I'm probably not much better about making my feelings known. Nora proposed to _me_ , after all."

"But I can't compare to your Nora." Nick said somberly.

"Nick, after all we've just talked about, you still insist on putting yourself down?"

"You know what I mean. I can't… can't offer you the type of companionship humans - you - need."

"What, you don't think what we're doing right now is intimate?"

Nick winced at the word.

Nate sat up, clenching his fists. "What I _need_ is someone to be there for me, to be a partner in every sense of the term. Someone who shares my convictions, who can be vulnerable with me and vice versa, and we prop each other up because _that's what partners do_.”

He looked at Nick, who averted his eyes. “And I don't care that you're different from Nora, you're not her replacement or a rebound, you're _you_ and I like _you_ for _being you_ and, god, I can't wait for you and Shaun to meet. And maybe you'll finally believe it if I tell you enough times, but you're so beautiful it leaves me speechless sometimes."

Nate felt like he was beginning to babble, but didn't care. "I can understand if you don't feel the same way, and as long as you want me in your life in _some_ capacity, we'll figure it out, but I want you in mine and to know where I stand because life is too short, especially out here, and we’ve both already lost too much."

"You done?"

Nate wiped an errant tear away with the back of his hand. "Yeah."

Nick hefted himself to a sitting position, inquisitively tilting his head at the other man who now had his face in his hands. "You won't take _no_ for an answer, will you," he mused.

Nate looked up. "Of _course_ I will take a _no_ , but it can't be because you don't think you're good enough."

"So… how about a _yes_ , even though I don't think I'm good enough?"

Nate laughed and wiped away another tear. "You're a real mess, you know that?"

"I guess that's why I ended up in the trash," Nick retorted, but he was smiling now.

He pulled the pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and turned it over and over in his hands. "You know, it's something... what you said just now about me becoming more _me_ with time. The old Nick, he, uh, I don't think he ever dwelled much upon it, mind you,” Nick nervously glanced at Nate, “but I'm pretty sure he only had eyes for dames. But that hasn't been the case with me for a long time now, even if I haven't exactly acted on it."

Nate inched a little closer to the synth. "If you want to act on it now, I'd like very much to kiss you."

Nick looked shocked, but he nodded, dropping the cigarettes in his lap. He closed his eyes as Nate reached out and grasped his chin, angling his head. They leaned in and their lips gently met. Nate gave a happy rumble as he felt Nick's metal hand lightly spider along his back, prompting a muffled chuckle from the synth in response. Nate moved his hand to clasp the nape of Nick's neck, breaking off the kiss, but shifting them to where they lingered a moment, touching foreheads.

Nick opened his eyes. "You'll have to forgive me, I'm a little out of practice with this sort of thing." He smirked, "Meaning, I got nada outside of memories."

"It's ok, if anything is too much or not enough, just say so. And it isn't like I have experience dating a synth."

"Oh, god." Nick flopped back onto the mattress.

"What?"

"We're _dating_."

"Are you confused about what just happened, _Detective_?"

"Ha, ha, no, ya wiseass. But, just." He shielded his eyes with the crook of his arm. "What are we gonna tell Ellie?" He groaned. " _Piper_?"

Nate chuckled. "You know Ellie will be thrilled and Piper… well, I think the better question is, how soon until she figures it out on her own?"

"Ten minutes. Tops."

"I was going to say five."

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, geez, it's been almost 7 years to the day since I first wrote a fic, then kind of wandered away. This is my first kissy fic, I hope you liked it.
> 
> And for folks who were around in my PacRim days, yes, a cat makes a brief appearance, as to be expected. The difference being, *this* cat already exists.


End file.
